


Threadbare Memories

by GinnyK



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15111920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyK/pseuds/GinnyK
Summary: Post Episode to Hartsfield Landing





	Threadbare Memories

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

__

> _Under a ragged coat  
>  lies wisdom  
>  _
> 
> ~~~ Romanian Proverb

I smiled as she grabbed my coat and put it on before heading outside. I was going to offer her my coat, honest I was. She just beat me to it. Which was fine, it was a step in the right direction. Yeah, having her just grab my things without asking is a step in the right direction. It means we're getting back to where we were. 

And if I wasn't mistaken that was a nice little bit of bantering right before she left. When she all but accused me of sleeping with the Flender girl. Sure she has a crush on me, who wouldn't. I am a very powerful and handsome man, just ask Donna. 

OK, time to reign in my ego a bit. 

So Donna left to practice the art of retail politics wearing my coat. She did look really cute in it. 

She's been back in a few times. With her red cheeks and windblown hair she looks positively beautiful. I remind her she's wearing my coat, just to tease her. She's rattled off the concerns of the Flenders' and I've done my best to give her the information she needs to sway their vote. 

I can see her out my office window, shivering just outside the gate, talking animatedly on the phone. I should really go out there with her. But since she's wearing my coat, I'll just stay here and do what it is I do. 

Well, let's face it, at the moment I'm not doing a whole heck of a lot. I mean, I'm standing at my window looking out at my assistant who is trying to save a few votes in the New Hampshire primary, freezing her butt off, despite my coat. Maybe I should feel guilty. If she were out there in her coat, then I'd feel guilty. She's right, mine is warmer. 

I got the coat for Hanukkah from my parents about ten years ago. It's followed me around from job to job, apartment to apartment. It spent a season campaigning, where it spent more time warming the body of my assistant than it did mine. But I didn't care. We spent many nights on the cold bus huddled under the coat, talking, dreaming, sleeping. It's lived through mishaps including coffee spills, a water balloon attack and being left behind in a diner somewhere in the Midwest only to be returned by the nice white haired lady who owned the place. It's been rumpled, balled up and stepped on. 

It holds many good memories. 

I was wearing it the day I went to New Hampshire to hear the real thing. The morning of Election Day I wore it to the polls. I wore it the day Bartlet was sworn in as President. Sixteen months ago I wore it out to dinner with Donna. It was a few days before I returned to work after the shooting. I remember Donna holding it out for me to put on. I remember the way it hung on me, despite the heavy sweater I was wearing. The way Donna protectively took my arm that evening is something I will never forget. The way she brushes away invisible lint from my shoulders every time I wear it makes me smile. 

But like most possessions, it also holds some not so pleasant memories. 

I wore it they day we buried my father. Christmas Eve a year ago I was wearing it when Donna took me to the hospital. It's kept me warm while walking back to the White House many times after disastrous meetings on The Hill. 

During the warm months it resides in the closet in my guest room. Next to a very similar coat that belonged to my Dad. I don't wear that one at all, Dad was a good 5 inches shorter and 30 pounds heavier than I am, but I can't bring myself to get rid of it. Even after this much time it still holds the scent of Old Spice aftershave and Dad's cigars. On the hanger next to Dad's coat is a scarf that used to belong to Joanie. Mom gave the coat and the scarf to me last year when we cleaned out the house. 

I remember taking my coat out the first cold day this fall. My hands ran over Dad's coat and Joanie's scarf before I took my coat out of the dry cleaning bag. The scent of the cleaning chemicals stuck in my nose the first few times I wore it. Then the familiar scents started to make their way into the black wool, Royal Copenhagen Musk Cologne, Irish Spring soap, Starbucks coffee. And now since Donna's been wearing it for a while I can look forward to the scent of Clinique's Happy cologne the next time I put it on. 

With use and abuse the coat is starting to show its age. The ends of the sleeves are slightly threadbare. At the beginning of the winter Donna pointed out that fact and asked if I was going to buy a new one. She looked a little relieved when I said no. I think it will have to be completely threadbare before I get rid of it. 

It's time to call Donna with one more point she can try and sell the Flenders'. Not that I really think it will make any difference now. 

The pizza should be here soon. It's quarter to midnight and time to give up. I button my suit coat and run outside to get Donna. She doesn't believe when I tell her to just let the Flender family vote. So I take the phone and talk to Mackey for a minute. We hang up and head back towards the gate. As we do my hand rests on Donna's back and after we pass through I put my arm around her shoulders and whisper. 

"Can I have my coat back?" 

"Not a chance." she tells me with a grin as she rests her cheek against my shoulder for just second. 

We get back in the bullpen a few minutes before the vote starts. Donna heads to the office while I go to see if there is any pizza left. 

Two minutes later I get back to my office with a couple of slices of pizza and a large cup of coffee for us to share. Donna's stretched out on the floor, leaning back against the front of my desk watching the television. She took off my coat but is still huddled under it. I hand her the pizza and the coffee and go to grab the spare blanket out of my closet. 

As the vote starts we must make quite a sight. We're side by side on the floor, legs stretched out in front of us. Donna's still huddled under my coat but she's graciously shared a tiny bit of it with me. That's ok though, I have the blanket and besides, I wasn't the one who spent the last hour and a half outside in the freezing cold. The plate with the pizza is resting on our thighs and I'm holding the coffee. Donna scoffs at the fact that the only pizza left was pepperoni. So she carefully pulls the pepperoni off of her piece and feeds it too me. 

Great, she somehow managed to miss my big mouth. So now the scent of pepperoni pizza will be lingering on my coat too. That's ok; it'll serve as a reminder of tonight. 

Well, the vote is over. And Donna's asleep with her head on my shoulder. The pizza and the coffee are gone. I blindly reach up onto the desk feeling around for the remote. I find it, and the stack of files that need to be read. I put on CNN softly and start to read. 

Donna's head eventually makes its way from my shoulder to my chest and I fold up the blanket as best I can and put it in my lap, settling her head down. As I cover her up with the coat I smile as I get a whiff of her cologne. It's comforting. I haven't really spent much time close enough to her to smell it lately. 

But things do seem to be getting back to where they were. But I don't know if that's where I want things to end. Amy and I are still sort of together, I guess. I just haven't had the energy to either keep things going or break them off. I suppose deep down I am just waiting for her to break up with me. We're scheduled to go to the thing next week. I'm not sure I'm looking forward to it. 

Donna rolls over a little and sighs in her sleep. The sigh of contentment, I hope. With a slightly shaking hand I brush back her hair, reveling in the feel of the soft blond strands against my fingers. I pull the blanket back up over her shoulders and run my hand against the wool. 

As many memories as this coat holds for me, I think the memory of this moment will always stand out as one of the best. 

THE END  



End file.
